We Are Everything We Need
by cwluvr
Summary: Following Donna's murder Opie finds himself on the losing end of a custody battle with his deceased wife's family when he meets a woman who might be everything he needs.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have not finished work on Same Song, Different Story. I just post stuff when my creative juices begin to flow before I forget. When I was in the hospital after my accident, friends and I got hooked on Sons of Anarchy-and got our doctors and nurses hooked on Sons of Anarchy. And to any of those reading this who have read any of my other stories, I haven't abandoned those either. It's just right now my muse seems to really be focused on hot outlaw bikers.**

Her mother always told her she was going to end up here. She shrugged-and kept on walking. Hopefully there was a gas station nearby. She needed some running water. She was tired, hot, sweaty, and hungry. The last bag of chips had been scarfed down a couple of hours ago. Her feet were aching in her cowboy boots-boots that had seen better days. Her back was sore. And she was nursing a busted lip and few bruises. She shrugged again. That was life. And she refused to cry about it. Crying never helped anybody-all it got you was a headache.

Hearing the rumble of a motorcycle she turned her head and stuck out a thumb with a heavy sigh, with the other hand she pushed her sunglasses up the bride of her nose. The bike came to a steady top. The guy on the big black Harley was big-tall, well built, wearing a pair of aviators like her own, long hair pulled back of his face. She didn't miss the cut.

"Need a ride?"

"Yeah."

"Where you headed?"

"LA-but as far as you can take me."

She hoisted the vintage army duffel bag across her ample chest. She felt his eyes look her over and she resisted the urge for a deep breath that always came with these assessments. She knew what she looked like. Dirty. There was dirt and dried blood on her pale legs-put on display by a pair of scantily short denim cutoffs.

"You sellin'?"

"Seventy-five for the full deal."

For twenty bucks she could get a bed to sleep in. The room itself might have a few creepy crawly friends but when all you had been eating were bags of chips and stolen candy bars for the past three days and the only place you had been able to catch a few hours of sleep were bathroom gas stations, then a few cockroaches did not bother you.

"Get on."

Climbing on back of the motorcycle, she wrapped her arms tightly around him. He smelled like leather, open air, soap, and some inherent masculine scent that most big strong men carry. She loved being on the back of a bike. There wasn't a time in her life where she had felt more free than when she was on the back of a bike. It was the openness, the wind ripping against you-it was moments like these where she felt no worries, like she had a place in the world. And despite her split lip-she smiled. But the moment ended too soon as he pulled into a rinky dink motel. She knew places like this. She hooked at places like this. Slept at places like this. Lived at places like this,

She followed his lead, past the half-lit and broken sigh on the window that read VACANCY. The biker flipped the small graying man behind the bar window in an old olive green polyester collared shirt from the 1970s a twenty. And kept walking. To the back where there was an empty room. Apparently he had done this before. She wasn't surprised-he didn't look like a newbie. Examining the back of his cut- Sons of Anarchy, a logo that looked to be like some sort of a reaper except with some automatic gun, maybe a M-16, SAMCRO, Redwood Original. He locked the door and she dropped the bag, "I only got three rules. You have to wrap up. I do not kiss on the mouth. And my safe word is puppy dog tails. If you choose not to abide by said rules, the play is a no go and I will be forced to take action."

One eyebrow rose but she stood her ground. There was a knife at his waistband and a patch on his cut that read Men of Mayhem. You didn't have to be a genius to know what the meant. When he nodded and removed his cut, she bent over and pulled a pack of condoms from her bag. Tossing on the rickety nightstand by the bed, she approached him, tugging his shirt over his body. He was heavily tatted, the tattoo on his chest resembling his cut. She wasn't surprised. Once his shirt was off she worked her mouth down his chest, his stomach, pausing to undo his jeans. She liked the feel of his body, warm, hard, well muscled. Most men who picked up chicks on the side of the road were not physically attractive.

Guys like this never had problems picking up chicks. So she knew it was emotional, loneliness, just looking for a release, etc. it varied from guy to guy. He was half-hard when she put her mouth around the tip of his cock. Mustering that gumption she always knew she had, she employed her technique. She knew how to bring a man to his knees. Had been working it ever since she turned fifteen and grew into her body. Now, ten years later, she had become a master at it. Not blowjobs in particular-not to be misunderstood because she was damn good at being able to work her mouth- but the art of her femininity. By the time she was done, he was close to coming. She didn't finish him. Instead she guided his hand to the sensitive tip and let him take care of itself. Watching almost clinically as she tugged off her jacket, her baggy black and white striped tank top, and her black lace bra. She sighed. He was big. Really big. And she was wet. Thank God, because she didn't have any lube. It was rare that she found herself physically attracted to the men she picked up. Not that this was something she did on a regular basis. Just when she was seriously strapped for cash. In this case, besides the fact that he was smoking hot, there was something about him that intrigued her. Maybe it was the silence.

"So…how do you wanna do this?"

"On the bed. Hands and knees."

She wasn't surprised. And honestly, she preferred not having to look at him during the deed. She toed her boots off and slipped out of the shorts and the matching undies before scooting to the edge of the bed. He was impatient. He pushed inside of her in one single fluid motion. Hard. Her nails, covered in chipped and fading black polish, tugged at the sheets and she let out a gasp. He didn't wait for her to adjust to his size. She felt full. A satisfaction she hadn't experienced sexually in a long while. Another point in his favor. When he moved, it was hard. Intense. He wasn't concerned about her and that was fine because she was not concerned about him. She knew how to take care of herself. So she slipped he hand between her legs, toying with her clit. Between her fingers and his thrusting it didn't take long. He came again and she followed.

Once they had both reached release, he pulled out of her, slipped the condom off and tossed it in a nearby wastebasket before setting his clothes back on order. He was facing the beat up desk on the other side of the room when she pulled herself up off her hands and knees.

"What's your name?"

"Maggie," she answered, liking the quiet deep timbre of his voice.

"Thanks for the um-."

She shook her head and uttered a small mile. He raised another eyebrow. And instantly she regretted it. He left out the door, silently. She stood up and made her way towards the desk. And there, on the desk, were three bills. All fifties. Her mother said she would always end up here. Maybe mothers know best.


	2. Chapter 2

For some reason he could not get that green eyed bitch with the long white blonde and blue dreadlocks out of his mind. She had been extremely attractive for a chick on the side of the road with a charge of seventy-five, with her petite curvy body, surprising white gorgeous smile, and even more surprising that tight pussy of hers. It wasn't something he did often, picking up hookers, just when that feeling of loneliness coupled with rage creeped up on him. And lately these days, with Donna's parents and her sister breathing down his neck it had been creeping up a little bit more frequently. He popped his knuckles, maybe it was time to go trolling for another release. A punch of guilt hit him low in the stomach, instead of burying himself in pussy maybe he should be talking to his kids. He couldn't even look at Ellie. He knew he was making it harder on himself, easier for those fuckers to swoop in and take his kids. But a sliver of him thought maybe it was best. He wasn't sure. With a sigh he turned his attention back onto his steak and eggs.

Him, Jax, Chibs, and Juice were sitting in a booth at Lumpy's Family Restaurant. And as usual these days, Opie was the only one not talking.

"Have you talked to Rosen about the custody thing," Jax asked before digging into the last bit of his burger.

"Not yet."

"Ope man, I know you're busted up over Donna but you gotta come through for your kids. Do you really want them raised without you?"

He remembered when his mother had took him away for a while when he was a teenager. Away from his dad. Away from the club. All he had done was come right back. He really couldn't imagine life without his kids but right now life without Donna was too hard to handle. He wasn't going to answer Jax's question-at least not truthfully. He did not want it getting back to Gemma. And he sure as hell did not need Gemma slapping any type of sense into him. Dropping the money on the linoleum table he stood up and headed towards the door, "I'll see you back at TM," he said almost on a whisper. He needed to get back to the garage, get back to the clubhouse, see if anybody had found anything on the Niner who had killed Donna.

In the middle of a custody battle was maybe not the best time to go on a murdering rampage. But this was his wife. He wasn't going to let anybody exact his revenge for him-this would be all on him. He didn't have a Men of Mayhem patch accidentally. When he turned the corner out of Lumpy's, something at the end of the street caught his attention. A little small thing with white blonde and blue dreadlocks.

XXXXXXXXXXX

She had walked from that rinky dink motel where she had been turning tricks at to the nearest town. Charming. With a quaint little entrance sign that said _Our Name Says It All_. Cute. It was small, reminded her of home a little bit. And she hadn't been reminded of home, at least not in a good way, maybe ever since she had left. Maybe she would stay for a while, earn a little bit of cash before making it to LA. That was the smart thing to do because there was no way in hell she'd make it in LA without a little bit of start-up money. But she wanted something legit. Not hookin'. She didn't mind stripping but sometimes people got a little bit handsy. A bartending or a waitress gig would do.

She had been standing on the corner for maybe less than fifteen minutes, lighting up a cigarette when a Sheriff police car stopped in front of her, blocking the stop sign. Great, she thought. She tossed the cigarette on the ground and used the heel of today's black unlaced combat boots to stamp out the butt.

"You're not from around here," he said.

_Way to state the obvious_. As if the large duffel bag by her feet didn't give her away.

"You've been standing here at this corner for quite a while."

"Well, my feet are tired. Sick of walking."

"Walking?"

"Look what can I do for you? I mean do you want something-or not?"

He smirked. She didn't like the look of it. "Are you propositioning me?"

Oh fuck. Great. Just great. She knew what was coming. This was why she hated cops. She had a feeling as soon as she got in his car she was going to have to earn to be uncuffed and let go. God, she hated cops.

"What the fuck are you talking about," okay maybe that had been the wrong thing to say she told herself when he brought out the handcuffs, cuffing her a little bit too tightly, "Are you serious? What the hell am I under arrest for?"

"Solicitation."

"Solicitation? Are you shitting me? Dude, I just got here, if you've been watching me for the fifteen minutes I've been standing here-."

Her protest and him citing her Miranda rights were interrupted by a deep even timbre, "What's going on Hale?"

Her body was jerked around to face that one biker from three days ago. Behind her aviators she blushed, instantaneously. Maybe because a familiar heat began to take hold in the bottom of her stomach and between her thighs. She frowned at the thought. That wasn't normal-at least not for her. It took her a while, normally, to warm up to somebody. Well, apparently not this somebody. When he looked her over briefly she wished she had been wearing a pair of jeans. She was in a faded blue tank dress, well it was more like an oversized top than an actual dress-as the hem barely covered the top of her thighs and it showed a fair hint of cleavage, and her leather jacket. The jacket belonged to her father. She had found it in the attic when she was twelve. But she still looked like a hooker.

"Not that it's any of your business. But I'm picking her up for solicitation."

"She wasn't soliciting."

"Oh really? Then what exactly was she doing," he asked with that same smirk on his face.

She was so tempted to kick this guy right in the balls. Talk about a douche on a power trip. Noting the tension in the air, she knew that maybe things were getting a little bit personal. Not that she was surprised. Bikers, and she was guessing these were outlaw bikers, and law enforcement didn't usually get along.

"Waiting for me. Weren't you Maggie?"

No one was as shocked as she was. First of all, he remembered her name. The man who currently had her arrested, she was guessing his name was Hale-first or last she wasn't sure, pinned him with a look that called bull shit. But she closed her mouth, her mother always said open mouths caught flies and gave a quick recovery.

"Yeah I was," to Hale she said, "I told you I wasn't soliciting."

"You two know each other?"

"Yes, now will you please uncuff me. And for your information, in order to pick someone up for solicitation you actually need to witness them solicit," she snapped at him as he uncuffed her. He speared the biker with a look before getting back in his car and speeding past the stop sign. See, that's exactly why she hated cops.

"Thanks," she told him, rubbing her wrists.

"No worries."

"I didn't catch your name last time."

"It's Opie."

"Opie," she quirked her head to the left and smiled, "Cute. Funny. But cute."

"So…were you soliciting," he asked, crossing his arms over his broad chest. She picked her bag up and threw it over her chest then removed her sunglasses from her face and laughed.

"No, I wasn't soliciting."

She didn't miss the look he gave her. A look that said he knew better. She smiled, a great smile actually. He noted how young she looked. Her eyes, big green luminescent things, were young, looked innocent. But the rest of her, built for sin. Pouty lips and a body that could put any woman to shame.

"That's only something I do in dire situations. I was pretty banged up when you picked me up walking."

"Are you in dire situations often?"

"Honestly? A little more often than I like to be."

He didn't miss the way her hand clenched the strap on her bag. She couldn't have been more than twenty-five. Too young to be in dire situations that often. He put his hands in his pockets and looked across the street, eyeing a group of women who had stopped walking to stare. He frowned.

"How'd you get here?"

"Not that it's any of your business," she told him with a roll of her eyes, "but I walked."

"You walked? That's a good ten miles."

"That's why I got great legs. Look, I'm just passing through. Looking for a job-something legit. Need to rack up some cash."

"Before LA?"

"Preferably. Showing up broke in LA means that all I'm going to do is end up on another street corner. But this time…well, you know how the story goes."

He nodded, "Got a place to sleep?"

"I got some spare change for a motel room. Someone helped me out a few days ago."

He looked at her with a raised eyebrow before he smiled. Tugging at his hair, "Yeah about that."

"What? I'm not complaining that you paid me double."

"I wanted to help out a bit. You don't seem cut out for the life."

"Oh really, what gave that away? My smile. Or the fact that I'm a safety girl."

"Both. And, well…"

"You didn't expect me to be so tight. Well, I told you. I don't do it often. And I'm selective. I say when, I say who, and I say how much."

"You can afford to be selective?"

She shrugged and smiled again. Why was she always smiling? He picked her up on the side of the room with a busted lip and blood on her hands and knees. And he hadn't been so distracted while he was getting off that he didn't notice the large bruises on her back that looked like she had been punched or kicked a few times or the bruise on her arm. Yet she had still smiled at him before he left the motel. Almost like she knew just how much he was falling part and was offering some sort of small comfort. Now was not the time, with all the shit that was going on in his life, to be intrigued by a hooker. But before he could open his mouth to say goodbye he heard Jax call his name. He watched his best friend and his brothers saunter over to the two of them. _Great, just fucking awesome_.

"Ope-who's this?"

"Um…"

He didn't want to make introductions. He gave her a look that told her to introduce himself but she just gave him the same look back. She saw the vein in his forehead ticking and knew he was slightly annoyed so she rolled her eyes. Men.

"Hi. I'm Maggie," she said holding out her hand for a handshake. She didn't miss the VP patch the blond was wearing. If she had been her best friend April, she would've been all over that.

"Jax," he smirked and shaking her hand.

"Nice grip. A firm handshake says a lot about a person."

"Really, like what?"

"Strength. No BS-that type of thing."

Ope introduced Juice and Chibs but stepped in front of the Latino when he extended his hand. She didn't miss the smile that Chibs and Jax gave him. She chuckled under her breath.

"So how do you two know each other?"

"Just from around," Maggie intercepted and hastily changed the subject, "do you guys know anybody who's hiring-I'm looking for a job."

"How are you with filing, answering phones-that kind of thing?"

"Fine."

"Great, we're looking for a replacement for my mom over at Teller-Morrow. It's only temporary. But-."

"I'll take it. Beggars cannot be choosers."

"You can ride with me," Opie told her grimly, pinning Jax with a look that his brother knew would broker discussion.

Juice was about to open his mouth to say something stupid when he was struck dumb when Maggie walked straight over to Opie's bike. All three turned to each other with raised eyebrows. She knew his bike? Who was this chick? And why hadn't they heard about her? Where did the two of them meet? Obviously, if she could pick out his bike that "just from around" line was total bullshit. Oh, they were going to have fun with this one. A lot of fun.


	3. Chapter 3

Pulling up to Teller-Morrow Automotive on the back on Opie's bike was nothing like pulling into a motel to turn tricks. I mean you would think the feelings would be similar. Nervous, unsure, worried. But not really. She knew how to turn tricks. She knew bikers on occasion. But this felt a tad bit different than a regular MC who liked to throw a wild party on Saturday night. And for a second time in her life, she felt out of place. Maggie didn't miss the Sons of Anarchy painted across the top of a small single building near the garage. She was going to take a job where a bunch of bikers hung out, worked, and mama didn't raise no fool. Maybe this was a bad idea. Not that she could judge, it wasn't as if she was constantly on the straight and narrow. When she hauled herself off of Opie's bike, he jerked his head in one singular direction and she followed-careful to keep her head down and her thought and opinions to herself.

Jax, Chibs, and Juice made their way towards Bobby and Tig who were watching the girl, Maggie, follow Opie into the office.

"Who's that," Bobby asked.

"Her name's Maggie," Chibs answered.

"How does she know Ope?"

"Just from around," Juice smiled using air quotations, "or at least that's what we thought until she picked out his bike from the rest of ours. Apparently she's rode bitch before."

"Is he tappin' that? Because she is a hot piece of ass," Tig smiled.

"I don't know man. She's knew in town. Saw her through the window. Hale slapped a pair of cuffs on her before Opie contributed to the conversation," Jax said before reaching into his cut and pulling out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up.

Bobby whistled, "Opie been holding out on us?"

"I don't know man. But I sure am going to find the fuck out," the blonde biker replied as he watched Maggie follow Opie into the office, a knowing smirk on his face as Opie closed the office door.

Inside Opie was already beginning to feel as if he was going to regret this. If it wasn't the look Gemma gave him after she did a quick head to toe assessment of the petite girl next to him, it was the shit storm brewing outside with his brothers who had been gearing up for a good ribbing. "Gemma," he began.

Tucking hair behind her ear, "What is it Ope honey?"

"This is Maggie. Jax hired her for the temp job."

As Gemma looked her over the title Queen Bitch ran across Maggie's mind. For the second time today she wished she was in a pair of jeans. Gemma crossed her arms over chest and pointed towards the bag slung across the girl's chest.

"You going somewhere?"

"As soon as I find a motel. I just need a place to crash," she said, saying her words slowly, sure of herself but giving off that I'm not here to cause any shit vibe.

"Where you from?"

"Everywhere," was her automatic response. Ope quirked his eyebrows and gave her a look she avoided out of her peripheral vision. Gemma did the same until she gave a sigh and ran her hand across her forehead, masking a frown with a quick scratch, "Tennessee." She had tried hard since she left home to loose the Appalachian accent but occasionally it came out at times like these-when she felt uncomfortable, angry, or under an enormous amount of stress.

"Long way from home aren't you?"

"Well you know what they say. Home is where the heart is. And my heart left Pickett, Tennessee a long time ago."

Gemma smiled. She made note of Ope standing behind her, a little bit too close for her tastes. She looked at the girl, her lip was swollen-like it had been split not too long ago. She frowned and eyed her legs on display.

"Got a pair of jeans?"

"Yeah," she smiled, "where's the bathroom?"

"Down the corner to the left."

She watched her bounce off towards the counter, a childish spring in her step. She snorted and began to sift through some papers.

"Where'd you find her at?"

"Walking on the side of the road, ten miles out of Charming," Opie slipped. Gemma pierced him with a concerned look and before she could speak he headed out towards the garage, prepared to do some work and get her off his mind. It had been a few months since Donna's death. And there was other things he needed to be thinking about. So he didn't know why that girl's infectious smile was what was constantly on his mind.

Opening the door, he was met with Tig and Chibs, shoving past them he said, "Don't start."

"Don't start he says," Tig smiled, nudging the Scotsman with an elbow, "So um where'd you find the bitch who's ridden bitch on your bike before."

"It's not worth talking about Tig."

"Not worth talking about huh Ope," came Chibs voice, following, "Jackie boy says you got Hale to drop the cuffs this morning on the corner of 7th street. What was she doing on the corner of 7th street that warranted arrest. Granted, if she was wearing what she was wearing-."

"Just drop it," he said, eyeing Jax with a look that said _you just had to open your big mouth didn't you_. Juice was smiling, clearly enjoying the good natured ribbing coming from his brothers. But he knew it wasn't going to happen. Surrounded by Juice, Tig, Bobby, Chibs, and his best friend, he just knew where this conversation was going. He didn't know why it bothered him so much to tell them where he knew her from. It was something about Mags and her _I just hook when I'm in serious need for cash _stance that made him want to keep that bit of information to himself.

"You stopped Hale from arresting her? Man, Opie time fess up-something's not right," and then Tig stopped. His years from whoring around finally catching up to him when he smiled, "No way. No way. Opie you've got to be shitting me."

"Tig-" Opie started but was cut short when Chibs obviously came to the same conclusion and laughed, giving Tig a playful slap on his shoulder.

"Shit, chick's a hooker," Tig said out loud.

"Fuck Opie. You brought a hooker to work office at TM?"

"Actually you brought a hooker to work office at TM. And it's not a career-she only does it when she really needs the money."

"Opie man, you really need to learn the rules of picking up prostitutes. She isn't Julia Roberts, you don't need to discuss how she got into the business."

"Look it only came up because this morning Hale was picking her up for solicitation."

"Was she?"

"Said she wasn't."

"And you believed the hooker was not trickin," Jax asked wearing a bemused smile.

"I'm not going to fucking talk about this."

In the bathroom Maggie was pulling her hair into a messy updo and washing some of the sweat and dirt off her face, careful of her lip which still stung a bit. She had slipped into a pair of old jeans, fitted, low riders, worn to perfection, tucking the hems into her boots. She toyed with her nose ring before slinging her bag across her chest and opening the door only to come face to face with a gorgeous redhead sporting a sleek and edgy bob and a slight rounded belly.

"Oh sorry. I um…"

"Don't worry about it. You didn't hit me with the door," she smiled, setting a hand on her stomach. _She's pregnant_, Maggie thought, letting loose a relived breath.

"Gemma told me to change into a pair of jeans and-."

"Gemma," she asked, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"Yeah," she said exiting the doorway and walking back towards the office, "I just got the temp job here in the office."

"Oh yeah she told me she was going to take some time off. Which once you get to know Gemma is absolutely ridiculous. She never took time off a day in her life. I'm Ali by the way."

"Maggie."

Coming back into the office she was met with another beautiful woman in cutoff denim shorts and a solid navy v-neck shirt, leaning across the desk smiling at Gemma.

"Kat. Meet Maggie, she's the new girl who's taking the temp job."

"Hi," Kat said with a slight nod, crossing her arms over her chest. Maggie frowned and so did Ali. "So you're the hooker all the boys were talking about when I pulled up five minutes ago."

"What," Ali shouted, looking at Maggie then Kat and Gemma and back to Maggie, "Kat c'mon-."

"No its alright," Maggie lowered her head to the ground, "Look. I only do that when I'm seriously in need of cash. And trust me if I hadn't needed the money that was the last thing I would've did. Just like I told Opie-."

"Who's my brother by the way," Kat said, sliding off the desk and piercing the petite and pretty girl with the white blonde and blue dreadlocks a stare that could scare just about anybody-man or woman.

"Oh so that's what this is about? Listen, I didn't find my way to Charming, hoping to start up something with your brother. I walked here for ten miles in a pair of dusty boots. I didn't know your brother was going to be here. The back of his cut says California. And fyi, California is a big ass state. He could've been from fucking anywhere. That was a one time deal that turned into a coincidence. And I didn't ask for this job here. In fact, your brother didn't offer me this job here. It was some smirking blond wearing a pair of Nikes-."

"Jackson Teller. Mother charter VP. My old man."

"Congratulations," Maggie said with a less than sincere smile, "I'm not here to cause shit. I'm here because I need cash to get to L.A. and honestly I'd prefer to get it in a perfectly legit way where I don't have to watch out for heavy handed psycho truckers."

It was quiet as Kat and Maggie stared each other down before Kat slowly let a smile creep in and behind Maggie came a bushel of raucous laughter. It was Ali, "Oh man I totally love this chick."


	4. Chapter 4

_Numb. That was the only way to deal with it. Numb yourself to the pain. No pain. No fear. Nothing. And whoever said that sometimes something was better than nothing was a liar-or someone who lived a perfect little life outside of Pickett. And then suddenly the only thing that existed was pain. A silent scream. And a bearded face that hovered over her in her sleep, whispering in her ear, "I know what you did."_

Maggie woke up in her small motel bed with a start, sweat dripping around her Scandinavian angled cheekbones. She put her hand to her naked chest, feeling her heart fluttering against her skin. Fluttering? No more like pounding. Countless times she had that dream. And even more countless times had she been afraid. She eyed the clock on the nightstand, covered in plastic detailed to look like wood. 6:30. She needed to hurry so she could make it to TM on time. Rushing to the shower, she put the dream of her stepfather out of her mind and concentrated on the job at hand.

In the Teller household, Kat was bouncing Abel on her knee, wearing nothing more than Jax's oversized reaper t-shirt, "He says that she said it's not something she does often."

"Kat. She's still a hooker."

"Well she hasn't been picking up anyone at the garage."

"Yeah. That's because Ma would kill her."

Kat choose to ignore that moot point. In the week or so Maggie had been filling in while Gemma was on vacation she came to like the girl. She was smart, witty, and had a mouth on her that fit right in. if she could just get everyone to overlook the hooker part.

"I gotta get to work babe. Don't worry about Maggie. Don't worry about Ali. Just don't worry about anything. God, you're turning into my mother," he said with a mischievous smile.

"I certainly hope not. Since you are thoroughly fucking me," she replied with a mischievous smirk of her own.

"Bitch," he teased playfully.

At the garage, Maggie was going through some paperwork she had to finish before heading out for lunch, trying to ignore the heated whispered conversation between Ali and the tattooed gruff and frankly really fucking frightening biker called Happy. She honestly didn't even want to ask how he got that name. Anyone could tell that Ali was far from happy. If her stance, the fiery tone of her voice, and the wild hand gestures didn't give her away Maggie didn't know what would. While Happy just stood there, hands across his chest, stoic. When she was finished, there was a pause before he shrugged and said something that clearly upset her further because she let out a frustrated noise and stomped towards her car. Happy watched her spin out of the parking lot before turning and giving Maggie a look that caused her to quickly lean her head down and focus on the paperwork she should've been focusing on in the first place. And she would've succeeded, if someone hadn't come standing in front of the desk.

"What is it Tig," she said uninterestedly. She knew enough about men to spot a weird one. And what was with the names around here anyways? Juice? Happy? Tig? She looked up when she noticed he braced his arms on the desk, on either side of her. And surveyed the area. Oh shit, where the fuck was this going?

"How much?"

"How much what," she spat out, putting the pen down and frowning.

"Don't be stupid. You know what I'm talking about," he told her with a smile that just upped the creep factor. She sighed. Of course she knew what he was talking about. She knew everyone at TM knew how she and Ope had met. And even after her first meeting with Kat she had actually quickly taking a liking to the girl. Even fun natured spirited Ali. And tough as nails Gemma.

"Look, when you guys were discussing me he should've told you that it isn't a career choice. I decide who, I decide when, I decide where, and I decided how much. And sorry Tig but I'm not picking you," she told him picking up the pen and going back to the paperwork. To honestly say she was surprised when he grabbed her by the wrist and practically hauled her across the desk and into the wall would've been a lie. So she didn't cower. Didn't close her eyes. Just stood there. Daring him to do it. She didn't know how long they stood there, challenging each other, his grip tightening on her wrist, knowing it was going to bruise before she heard someone shout Tig's name. Both bodies jerked and faced the doorway. Ope was standing there.

"Let her go Tig. Clay's looking for you."

Tig spared his brother and the woman who's wrist he was currently abusing a look before dropping her arm with enough force to inflict a tad bit more damage and walked past Opie, who closed the office door almost as silently as he opened it.

"You alright?"

"I'm fine," she said a bit quickly, walking away from the wall back to a chair behind the desk.

She was wearing a t-shirt and jeans today. Tattooed forearms exposed. She ran her fingers through her hair and sighed before looking up at him with a questioning expression. He approached the desk, running his fingers through his own mess of hair.

"I'm sorry about-."

"Sorry about what? Look, you told them how you met me. I'm not mad about that."

"You're not?"

"Nope," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose, accent slowly slipping free.

"Really? Because you seem a bit pissed-."

"Why shouldn't I be? Your brother just accosted me. Besides I had the shit under control. It wasn't like I was a-screamin' for you to come and rescue me like you did when you left me more than I asked for or when you stopped Deputy fucker from arrestin' me."

"I was just trying to help-."

"I don't need any fucking help."

"Really? Because if it wasn't for me you probably would've ended up fucking Hale in the backseat of his squad car. Or turning tricks on 7th street instead of here. Do you remember how I found you? Beaten the hell up."

"Who the fuck do you think you are? You don't fucking known anything about me. You paid me to fuck you. We fucked. Once. That's all. We're not fucking friends Opie!"

Just when Opie was about to say something, the door opened and Kat burst in, "Hey big brother Jax and Clay are looking for you." He looked between his sister and Maggie before stomping off. Maggie sighed and closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair.

"How much did you hear?"

"Everything. C'mon. Let's grab something to eat."

In Kat's car, there was a slight humming of AC/DC permeating through the leather interior. The two were silent-at least for a little bit.

"So there is something you need to know about my brother."

"Like everybody else in the MC who doesn't do emotion well. Except for rage and vengeance. Hallmarks of the MC life. And he didn't tell everyone he picked you up. They guessed. And maybe he played hero because like Ali, me, and Gemma he sees something in you that you maybe don't see in yourself."

"Oh really? What's that," she asked as Kat pulled her car into park. When Kat didn't answer, Maggie got out of the car and was careful not to slam the door, stopping only when Jax Teller's old lady called out to her.

"Simple Mags. Like a piece of really good candy. Hard on the outside. Soft on the inside. And the taste of it-pure awesomeness."

Maggie rolled her eyes as Kat chuckled, making their way into Avery's Yard. Maggie followed Kat to a table near the bar. Ignoring some of the looks a few of the patrons were shooting their direction. Maggie knew Kat was a striking woman. Even dressed downs in jeans and a tank top. And being SAMCRO's VP's old lady certainly added to the air about her.

"I've been meaning to come in here."

"You should. I work nights here-bartending," Kat smiled, before getting a young brunette's attention with a slight nod, "Hey tell Daniel to come out here for a second. I've got a proposition for him," she said more to Maggie than the young girl who had made her way behind the bar towards the back.

"Should I be worried," Maggie joked.

"Nope. Because I've just had a brilliant beyond brilliant idea. Well, actually I've been thinking about it for a while after Ali brought it up. And today totally just reinforced it."

"What are you talking about?"

"You got any experience witnessing and bartending?"

"Yeah," Maggie said, enunciating every syllable before a smile broke out across her face, "you thinking I could work here?"

"Yep. After the incident with Tig today. Plus Gemma's getting antsy after only a week of vacation. I love her to death but she needs something to do before she drives both Ali and me crazy. And Ali's got a two bedroom place. You could finally leave the shithouse motel and stay with her. At least until the baby comes. Save up enough cash and head out to L.A."

It was a great plan. Sound. Totally capable of planning out. But there was something about the smile Kat was giving her. A smile that in the ten years since she had left home had never boded well for anybody.

"Why do I feel like you have an ulterior motif?"

"Because you're smart."


End file.
